


Chocolate Chips Pancakes

by bobadeluxe



Series: The Business of Pleasure [3]
Category: Fortnite (Video Game)
Genre: Breakfast, Domestic Fluff, Headcanon, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Morning After, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24107113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobadeluxe/pseuds/bobadeluxe
Summary: “What are you doing?” Midas asks in disbelief.“I’m making pancakes, sir” Brutus replies without turning away from the stove, and in such a matter-of-fact manner that he has got to be kidding.
Relationships: Brutus/Midas (Fortnite)
Series: The Business of Pleasure [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734541
Comments: 9
Kudos: 62





	Chocolate Chips Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> There are mentions of other characters, but since they don't have much of speaking roles, I didn't tag them.  
> A lot of headcanon about each skins and their backstory, so be warned.
> 
> This was inspired by @EtherealChi drawing of Brutus making pancakes!

Midas wakes up to the smells of something cooking. 

This is new.

On regular days, Midas would wake up to nothing at all. Except perhaps the dread of yet another day beginning (and the work it entails.) If he is unfortunate Meowscles will greet him with a dead body, but that's about it. His internal clock wakes him up at the same time everyday. He does his morning routines, then he gets to work. Simple. Midas is a creature of habits.

His schedule did not change when he slept with Brutus; the bodyguard never stays the night. He doesn't like The Yacht, and Midas isn't comfortable with that level of intimacy anyway. So everytime they have sex here, Brutus does his walk of shame back to The Grotto. It's just as well. He shouldn't linger here too long when there are jobs to do. For this relationship to remain professional, it must not affect their work in any way. Midas will not allow Brutus' performance to suffer, no matter how much he enjoys the man’s company.

It wasn't until last night that Brutus got to stay. An unforecasted storm hit and, well, seeing that the storms on this island could kill you in matter of seconds.. Midas didn't have much of a choice. He might be cruel, but he is not unreasonable. Though he debated having Brutus sleep at the foot of the bed, at the end he decided it would be weirder to make a big deal out of it. So he shared the bed with his bodyguard for the night. 

It went surprisingly well, too. They slept with their backs turned, and Brutus kept his distance. Midas' bed is huge so space wasn't an issue, even with someone as big as Brutus. He snored a bit, but Midas was able to tune him out after a while. Perhaps he made it out to be a bigger issue than it is. Friends have sleepovers all the time, right? They are not  _ friends _ per se but still.. he could see himself letting Brutus crash here every now and then, when it'd be more convenient than travelling all the way back to The Grotto. Only when Brutus does not have other matters needed attending to, of course.

That is, until he follows the smells into the kitchen and sees Brutus cooking. The horror.

“What are you  _ doing _ ?” Midas asks in disbelief.

“I’m making pancakes, sir” Brutus replies without turning away from the stove, and in such a matter-of-fact manner that he has got to be kidding.

“I can see that,” Midas sighs. “ _ Why _ are you making pancakes?”

“..Because I’m hungry?” There is now hesitation in his movements, though he doesn't stop. There is a _'What kind of question is that?'_ left unsaid somewhere in there. "I'm sorry, was I not supposed to use the kitchen?"

"No, no, it's.. fine." Midas rubs at his eyes. He is still groggy; it's too early. "The kitchen is at your disposal, Agent."

_ Though I have no idea why would you.. _

"Are you hungry?" Brutus asks, but then changes his question. "Do you have time to sit down for breakfast? I could make you pancakes."

"Huh? Uh, sure."

Smooth, Midas.

It's not that he is flustered. The offer catches him off-guard, is all. Having breakfast together after sex feels.. intimate. The same way asking someone out for dinner is. When was the last time someone cooked for him, apart from his personal chefs? Then again, it was an offhanded offer at best. Brutus was already cooking for himself, and now that Midas is here and there are leftover batter, it's only courtesy to at least offer. It's Midas' yacht and Midas' kitchen, after all. He needs to stop reading too much into.. everything that they do. It's ridiculous, and unbecoming.

Midas steps forward to take a seat at the dining table. Now he could observe Brutus' cooking from the front row. The man seems to know his way around the kitchen, which is unexpected. He just.. doesn't look like the type. Midas could see him guzzling down protein shakes and raw fish, not meticulously stacking pancakes one by one. It smells good, like soft butters, maple syrup, and gooey chocolate. Chocolate? Now that's another surprise. Brutus will keep Midas on his toes for a while yet.

And he is singing, swinging along to the motion. Some songs from the 80's about a shack. He's got a great singing voice.

"Someone's in a great mood today," Midas teases.

"Just a little," Brutus admits. "It's a beautiful morning."

It is. After the storm clears out, the sky is a movie-perfect blue. The sun is bright without the usual unbearable heat that comes with it. The calm ocean waves  _ sparkle. _ It's hard to appreciate what a breathtaking sight this Island could be, when you are being chased by storms and murderous island natives. Only in a rare moment of peace like this that Midas could see the island for what it is. A small paradise.

It will be his one day. All of it.

"Coffee?"

"Sure," Midas nods. "Where did you get that apron by the way?"

Brutus shrugs, "Around."

It's a tight fit, tiny, barely able to tie around Brutus' waist. The soft, lace-trimmed blue fabric looks ridiculous on his muscular form. Midas chuckles at the silliness of it all. Brutus doesn't seem to notice, though.

"I didn't know you could cook." Midas says.

"Was it not on my file?" Brutus sounds amused.

"No, but I'll be sure to update it."

"Ah, yes, Espionage, Excellent Cooking Skills.."

Midas smirks. "Excellent? I don't know about that."

Brutus puts down a plate of fluffy, chocolate chips pancakes in front of him. He grabs a seat for himself opposite of Midas, coffee mug in hand, awaiting his judgement. 

"See for yourself, sir."

Midas laughs, "Oh, I will."

After a generous pour of syrup, Midas digs in.

"Huh." It's… really good. "I stand corrected."

"I used to cook for Skye when we were stationed together," Brutus says with a smile over the rim of his coffee mug.

"What are you, her father?"

" _ No _ ," Brutus is quick to dismiss the accusation. Midas could see the tips of his ears begin to redden. "If I don't cook for her, that girl will live off of pizza lunchables and flavor blasted goldfish for the rest of her life."

"..And?"

Brutus shifts in his seat, "It's unhealthy. She is still growing."

"Okay, dad."

Brutus groans, and accepts defeat. There is no way to get out of that one.

They eat in a comfortable silence that gets interrupted every now and then by small talks. What's on the agenda today, how is the situation with the locals.. so on and so forth. One question in particular catches Brutus by surprise.

"Am I correct in saying that you have taken a liking to Skye?" 

Brutus frowns. He is silent for quite a while. "I suppose I had. Is there a problem, sir?"

"No, no. I just get curious about my employees sometimes."  _ Especially now that he is involved with one. _ "She's my youngest recruit. I had concerns that she may not work well with others. I'm glad to see that you two have a good relationship."

"She's a good kid," Brutus says. "And a good agent. I wouldn't be too worried. She may seem immature at times, but.."

"But that is to be expected, yes," Midas agrees.

Brutus nods. "I'm sure you are aware of the risks, hiring these.. unconventional agents."

"That's one word for it," He says with a grin. "Yes, I'm well aware. You might be the most  _ conventional  _ agent on my roster. No offense."

"None taken." Brutus takes a sip of his coffee. "I pale in comparison to, say.. Meowscles."

"Right."

He hesitates but then asks, "This may be out of line, but how did you come to know him?"

"That piece of information is well within your clearance level, Agent," Midas reassures him. "I found him as a stray kitten. He was so small back then, you could hold him in the palm of your hands."

Brutus' face contorts in concentration. "That is.. hard to imagine."

"There's a photo somewhere around here I'm sure. Ask Lynx." Midas could barely remember it himself. "His mother sneaked onto our cargo ship, and delivered her kittens in one of our containers. It would’ve been weeks before we reached our destination, so we were stuck with them. His mother didn’t survive, and neither did his brothers.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, male Calicos tend to… anyway,” Midas clears his throat. “You could say Meowscles imprinted on me after that. He would follow me around, meowing to get my attention. If he doesn’t see me he would whine all day. So I gave him to Lynx.”

Brutus raises one eyebrow. “Just like that?” 

Midas frowns. “What was I supposed to do?”

“It’s just that you two seem close..” Brutus explains.

“Yes, well, it’s different now. He was just a kitten. He didn’t know better. I was still young, and The Agency was still finding its footing..” Midas’ picks his pancakes with a fork absentmindedly. “I couldn’t get attached to something I won’t be willing to sacrifice.”

Brutus says nothing. 

“Where was I? Oh, yes, Lynx. She was studying cross species transfer of genes back then. Specifically between humans and felines. That’s how Meowscles come to be. In a way, he was the prototype of her suit and  _ Omega’s.  _ A less.. permanent way to achieve his abilities.”

“Impressive,” Brutus compliments.

“Isn’t it? I’m glad we have Dr. Kassandra on our side,” Midas puts his fork down. “I think I’m done.”

“Already?” Brutus looks at his place. “You barely ate.”

Midas just shrugs.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but this is why you’re so skinny, sir.”

“What?” Midas rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. It doesn’t matter. The master works with his mind, and barely with his hands.”

“...Did you just refer to yourself in third person?”

“Yes? What about it?”

“No, nothing at all, sir,” Brutus chuckles. He stands up to collect their plates, and then lean down to kiss him at the corner of his mouth. Seeing Midas’ confused expression, he explains, “You got a little something there.”

He hopes he’s not blushing. “Right… thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, sir.” Brutus steps away. “I’ll take care of the dishes.”

Midas takes that as a queue for him to leave. He doesn’t want to make things more awkward after it has already gotten with that kiss, and he has appointments for the day. First on the agenda, he’s meeting up with Maya to discuss their latest additions to the armoury. 

“ _ Finally _ , you’re here,” Maya says once he arrives. What? He’s not even late. “I thought you’d hole up in that yacht with your boyfriend all day.”   


“Wait, My  **_what_ ** ?”

**Author's Note:**

> At this point Brutus is just gonna move into his yacth and Midas still wouldn't think they're dating.


End file.
